


Return Again to You

by starandrea



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse
Genre: Aliens, Apocalypse Fix-it, Children, Dogs, Erik has a lot of kids, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Except the end of the world, Jean knows everything, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Rescue Missions, They were trying to prevent that, This was all part of the plan, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starandrea/pseuds/starandrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world didn’t end with Apocalypse, but it won’t be easy to put back together.  Charles and Erik will need more than a longstanding truce and a discreet partnership to keep the devastation from turning humans and mutants against each other for good.  Fortunately, there are aliens.</p><p>(In the rubble of the school, Alex is pulled out of the wreckage.  He and Darwin accompany Sean to Egypt to pick up their stranded teammates, some stowaway students, and two former horsemen of the apocalypse.  In their absence, the remaining population of Xavier’s rallies.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charles is very aware, though not always of the right things.  Jean is holding his mind on the astral plane, for which he’s grateful, but he could wish his physical surroundings were less of a mystery at the moment.  There are large gaps between the school, the cliffs, the stone slab and what he assumes was a jet of some sort.

It gets worse from there.  He hasn’t the faintest idea where they are now, but there seem to be rather a lot of people here with him.  Jean tethers his mind, and Nur seems to be gone.  He supposes those are the immediate problems solved.

Hank is on one side of him, and Moira the other.  The group needs medical attention.  He can feel pain: his own or someone else’s, he doesn’t know, but he expects they either need to leave this place or to bring someone here, and Moira’s the only one currently thinking about how to do it.

“Charles,” she says.  He's relatively sure she's speaking aloud.  “Do you know where you are?”

He knows where she thinks they are, but she’ll be more helpful once she shakes off the cover.  He's not supposed to do it unless Hank’s monitoring them.  They need her now, so he glances at Hank when he says, “I'm on a beach.”

Hank gives him a small nod, and Charles sighs.  Breathing is one of the more obnoxious demands of reality, and he isn't enjoying it.  “In Cuba,” he murmurs, reaching out to pull Moira into his mind.  “With you.”

Too late, he remembers Jean.  Lifting a cover--the temporary glaze of memory that makes feigned behavior in stressful situations more credible--typically involves a rush of suppressed and often very personal experiences.  Moira isn't likely to appreciate an uninvited witness.

On the other hand, he doesn’t appreciate his oldest friends volunteering to forget him, however temporarily.  Maybe if he makes it embarrassing enough, they’ll give it more thought before agreeing next time.  He feels Jean’s hand in his, sitting beside him on the cold metal floor of the house he recreated, and he doesn’t ask her to look away.

For a moment it’s Moira’s hand in his instead, then Erik’s.  He’s not sure if he loses time or if he just stops paying attention, but Raven is there.  Kurt is awake.  Peter is hurt and Scott is scared.  Ororo is--

Ororo is with Erik.  He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again, but it looks real.  It feels scratchy and raw instead of alarmingly anchored, so this must be…

 _Cairo,_ Jean whispers.   _We’re still in Cairo.  Magneto is here, and Storm.  Do you trust them?_

Moira is talking to Hank about the jet and the ruined vehicles that litter the streets.  About calling for help and waiting until it arrives, like reasonable people.  Like people who aren’t fugitives.

“I’m still CIA,” she’s saying.  “Maybe not the most popular agent, but it counts for something.  They won’t abandon us.”

“Like it counted at the house?” Raven’s voice countered.  “Like it counted at that mutant detention facility?  When exactly has the government cared about us?  At all?”

Charles can hear her talking, but all he can see is Erik.  “Hello, darling,” he whispers.  He wishes his voice was louder.  He wishes no one but Erik could hear him.  “Would you like your memories back too?”

His jacket.  Where is his jacket?  He always carries Erik’s letter in the inside pocket: for safekeeping, for reassurance, for…

Well.  For Erik.

“No,” Erik says.  It's the first word since Charles found him; of course it's no.  “I expect they're better left alone.”

“I do,” Storm says.  Ororo.  Her identity fluctuates with Jean’s perception, still influencing his astral vision and bleeding into the real world.  “I want my memory restored,” she says.  “Can you do that for me?

“What’s wrong with her memory?” he asks Jean, only they’re sitting on the floor in the basement instead of holding onto each other in the ruins of Cairo.  So probably only Jean can hear him.

 _I think Apocalypse brainwashed them somehow,_ Jean says.   _I tried to lean on them, outside, but they weren’t… all there.  It was like they couldn’t understand me._

He’d tried it himself, but Nur’s presence had shielded them too thoroughly.  He couldn’t even reach Erik, and theirs was a link that hadn’t been broken for years.  Maybe it was the shock of interruption that prevented him from realizing it was worse that that.

“Of course,” he says, the next time he can see the dusty sky above them.  “Of course I can, my dear.  Come here.”

 _Can you?_ Jean asks.  She doesn’t doubt the resilience of his power.  It’s his ability to remember what he’s doing that she questions.   _Will she let you in?_

Ororo is kneeling beside him, and he wishes it was Erik.  Erik is still standing too far away.  He’s watching when Charles brushes a hand against Ororo’s cheek and murmurs, “Remember.”

Without Nur to reinforce it, the veil lingering on her mind is swept off as easily as that.  

She might thank him; Charles isn’t sure.  He’s wondering where the others are.  “Warren,” he says.  It echoes in the mostly empty hallway.  “Betsy?  Jean, where are the others?”

She’s right beside him, pressing up against his shoulder.  She doesn’t complain about the cold discomfort of the floor or the strangeness of the lighting.  This was once the safest place he knew.

“Angel was at the front of the plane when we ditched it,” she says quietly.  The hallway lighting flickers uncertainly and the air is too still.  “It hit the ground pretty hard.  Psylocke pulled him out, but I don’t know if he was…”

 _Still alive,_ she thinks, but she doesn’t mean for him to hear it.

“I don’t know how they are,” Jean says instead.   _They left,_ her thoughts add, whisper soft and less focused than before.   _They’re avoiding us, they disappeared.  Mystique told us not to go after them._

“We have to help them,” he murmurs, and this time the words are muffled by stone and heat.  He’s lying down, and his throat hurts.  Everything hurts.

“Who?” Raven’s voice demands.

“The others.”  Charles forces his eyes open--he thought they were already open--and he finds that Raven has taken Ororo’s place beside him.  “Warren.  He’s injured.  And Betsy… they might be in trouble.”

“Look around you, Charles,” Raven says.  “We’re in trouble.  We take care of ourselves first.  Right now we need shelter and a place to hide.”

It’s easier said than done, but he takes her meaning.

“I know a place we can walk to from here,” Ororo says.

“Not all of us can walk.”  That’s Peter’s voice, and he sounds angrier than he has for a long time.  Injured, then.  Peter depends on his powers to keep him stable, and when his ability to run is compromised his personality follows.

“I can carry you.”  Erik sounds dispassionate: it’s less an offer than a statement of fact.  Erik could carry all of them.

Charles doesn't realize he's looking at Hank until Hank is looking back.  Hank warned them both that altering Erik’s memories would be dangerous.  Far more so than Moira.  Moira’s identity is largely independent of her environment, while Erik’s relies heavily on those around him.  Take away his context and he’s just a spinning compass needle, endlessly seeking direction.

“Erik.”  He wishes he had his jacket.  He was meant to give Erik the letter he’d written to himself, to make everything all right again.  “Please let me show you what you’ve forgotten.”

Erik doesn’t immediately say no this time, which Charles thinks is progress.  He ignores Raven rolling her eyes.  He pretends not to hear Kurt ask, “What did he forget?”  He only watches Erik, trying to force his vision to stay fixed inside these stone walls instead of fading back into metal and fluorescent light.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Moira says.  “Charles, I told you this would backfire.  We all told you.

“Erik, you’re in love with him,” she adds.  “I assume you can tell, because even Charles isn’t strong enough to convince you otherwise.  He fucked up your memory on purpose, so you could play the prodigal son in your hometown and save a bunch of mutant kids in the process.  You wrote yourself a letter about it, but Charles must have lost it, so now we have to watch him stare sadly at you until he wears you down with sheer patheticness and you let him hold your hand, or whatever it is he has to do.”

Charles sighs without taking his eyes off of Erik.  “I do wish you wouldn’t swear in front of the children,” he murmurs.

Moira scoffs.  “They’re hardly children, Charles.”

“Nina isn’t dead,” Raven says abruptly.  “You told him that, right?  Tell me you know your host family is alive.”

This last seems to be aimed at Erik, who’s avoiding her as thoroughly as he’s glaring at Charles.  “Why can’t I hear you in my head?”

It’s not quite the last thing Charles expected him to ask.  “What?” he says.  Even he thinks it sounds unintelligent.  What are they doing here?

“Probably because of Apocalypse,” Moira says.  “He didn’t have Charles’ talent for large-scale mind control, but he certainly knew how to play a crowd.”

“I could hear you before,” Erik says.  Then he frowns, like even that isn’t clear in his mind, and Charles didn’t realize how much he’s holding back until he feels Jean slip.  It’s no longer danger of disassociation when her grip on his mind wavers.  It’s the total loss of Erik’s autonomy as Charles’ mind strains toward his, threatening to subsume him without warning or permission.

“Okay, look,” Raven says.  “If we have to wait for them to work out their issues before we go anywhere, we’ll be here all night.  Kurt, if Storm takes you to her hideout, can you come back for the rest of us?”

Charles focuses desperately on her, on Kurt, on the impatience and fear and pain that surrounds him.  Anything that isn’t Erik.  He can’t even look at Erik, suddenly, but closing his eyes doesn’t help.

“Yes,” Kurt is saying.  “Just not… all of you at once, this time.”

Jean flares brighter against his mind.  Burning wings block out everything but her, and Charles draws in a steadying breath.  “Thank you,” he murmurs.  She isn’t holding his hand but she is, and he didn’t say that out loud.

“Fine,” Raven says.  “I’ll go with you.  The rest of you stay here and try not to die until Kurt comes to pick you up.  Hank?”

“I don’t think splitting up is a good idea,” Hank replies.

“Well, that wasn’t the question,” Raven says.  “Are you coming or staying?”

“Do you have a phone?” Moira is asking Storm.  “I’ll need to make some calls.”

“Who is Nina?” Kurt asks Peter.

“Some kid he cares about more than us,” Peter says.

“How far,” Scott says suddenly.  It’s the first time Charles has noticed him speak, and everyone stops to listen.  Scott’s in pain, Charles realizes, and not like Peter and Raven.  His wounds are more emotional than physical, and they’re bleeding through his voice.

“To your hideout,” he says, when no one answers.  His head is tilted like he can’t actually see through his glasses and his voice is rough with sand.  “We can’t wait here for long.  They must have seen that explosion for miles.  Someone will come looking.”

“If there’s anyone left to come,” Jean says.  Her real voice is distant and strange.

“Is there?” Scott asks bluntly.

“Yes,” Jean says.  “But they aren’t very interested in us right now.”

“That will change, I’m afraid.”  Charles doesn’t like it, but Raven’s right: they’ll be less conspicuous in smaller groups.  He wishes he could concentrate long enough to follow the rest of her plan.

“Someone always comes,” Erik says.  “We should leave here.  I’ll take Peter and Charles.  Is anyone else unable to travel?”

“I’m not leaving them with you while you’re still under Nur’s influence,” Hank says.

“Uh,” Kurt says.  “If I don’t know where you go, I can’t come back for you?”

“I can guide you,” Jean offers.

“Okay?”  Kurt sounds very unsure of this, but Charles is watching Erik step quietly around Scott and approach from the side opposite Moira.

 _Jean_ , he whispers.  He feels her grip on his hand tighten.

Erik is looming over him, and even when he settles at Charles’ side he’s disconcertingly tall and distant.  “Do what you’re going to do,” he says roughly.

Charles wants to.  He wants to push away any trace of Nur and lift the cover Erik insisted on before he went home.  Before he went back, he said, he had to be able to focus on the children.  Not on the town, not on the radiation, and not on Charles.  He let Charles implant the “abort” suggestion, should anyone recognize him, but the rest was all Erik.

He always knew how to blend in, Charles thinks.

“Charles,” Moira says.

Charles wants to close his eyes, but he has to know that Erik believes his words.  “It’s your choice,” Charles tells him.  “It’s always been your choice.”

Erik’s expression doesn’t change, but he doesn’t seem so far away when he says, “You were always willing to let me walk away.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to,” Charles says.  He reaches for Erik’s hand, uncaring of who sees.  “I want you to stay.”

Erik has to look down, but he takes the hand he’s offered and suddenly the metal corridor is flooded with light.  Nur is dust when Erik catches his eye, and Charles can’t help staring as the tatters of his cover fall away: they’re together, Erik is looking for him, hiding from him, impatient and frustrated and proud to be at his side.  He’s angry with Charles and hungry for him and more content than he’s ever been.

“It didn’t stick,” Charles murmurs, when Erik shakes off the onslaught of memory with little difficulty and less surprise.  He lets Erik pull him to his feet in the hallway outside Cerebro.

“You said it wouldn’t.”  Erik is looking around, but he hasn’t let go of Charles’ hand.  “If we saw people we felt strongly about.  What are you doing down here?”

Charles follows his gaze.  “I suppose it felt safe,” he says.

“What happened to the children?”  They’re standing in the foyer now, just as bright, but kinder and more open with daylight streaming through the windows.  Erik is watching him intently, like he can see the answer in Charles’ thoughts.  “After Apocalypse, after I left with…”

 _After Nina,_ he thinks, and he might as well have said it aloud.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles blurts out.  “I was trying to help; I never meant you to think--”

“What happened to them,” Erik snaps.

“They’re fine,” Charles says hastily.  “They’re all fine, they have the plane, it’s probably landed already--”

“Professor.”  Jean’s abrupt presence is loud in the empty foyer, and she has to pull herself up to keep from bumping into him.  “Are you--what’s wrong?  Are you all right?  Is he--?”

“Hello, Jean.”  Charles tries to smile at her, but Erik hasn’t relaxed.  “Sorry to disappear on you.  We’re quite well, as you see.  Could you give us just a minute?”

“Of course.”  Jean gives Erik a second look before vanishing as quickly as she came.

“I can show you,” Charles says carefully.

There’s nothing neutral about Erik’s expression now.  It’s bitter and amused and longing, all at once.  “You think disrupting my memory further is wise?”

“I didn’t think it was wise the first time,” Charles reminds him.  He aches with the pain he can feel from Erik: no longer numbed by rage that’s guttered out, and not yet appeased by the results of his mission.

No mission that leaves so many dead can be considered a success, of course.  Charles regrets so much of what happened in Poland.  But it pales in comparison to the destruction Nur unleashed, and they can’t afford to crumple under the weight of loss.

Erik sounds resigned when he says, “Just tell me.”

“Lorna got to Nina and Milena,” Charles says.  “Peter arrived in time to help with the others.  The last he heard, they were scheduled to land Thursday morning.”

Erik shakes his head like he doesn’t believe it, and he isn’t meeting Charles’ eyes.  “Mystique said they’re alive.”

“They’re alive,” Charles repeats firmly.  “Your friend is alive.  Her daughter is alive.  Her daughter’s friends are alive.”

“I saw them die,” Erik says.

“That was my fault,” Charles says.  “I’ll not lie, Erik; it went very badly.  We all bear responsibility for what happened, and we’ll never make it right.  But the children survived.  Milena and Nina will be in New York by the time you get there.”

Erik is looking at him again.  He doesn’t look horrified or angry or betrayed.  He only looks tired.  He reaches out to touch Charles’ face, and Charles leans into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Charles whispers, closing his eyes.  “I’m so sorry, darling.”

He can feel Erik’s sigh, even if he can’t hear it.  “So am I.”

For once, Erik doesn’t qualify the apology, and Charles isn’t going to question it.  He steps into Erik, and for one heart-mending moment they’re holding onto each other in the sunlit foyer of the school they built together.  Charles hopes it’s a symbol of what remains.

When he opens his eyes, he’s lying on the floor with his head in Jean’s lap and his hand clutched against Erik’s chest.  Raven and Peter are arguing while Moira and Storm confer in low voices, and Charles sighs.  They really do have a tremendous amount of work to do.

He can feel Hank’s eyes on him as he sits up, and everyone else’s soon follow.  “Thank you, Erik,” Charles says aloud.  “And Jean.  I appreciate the mental assist.”

They’re staring at him now, all of them, so he adds, “I appreciate the rescue as well, of course.  This is quite a team you’ve assembled.”

“It’s a team of convenience,” Moira says, when the rest of them just look around as though they hadn’t noticed.  “Half of us were kidnapped, and the other half stowed away.”

Charles smiles, because she’s not joking.  “All the makings of a great story,” he says.  “Will you stay to tell it, or are you going with the first group in search of a phone?”

“Phone first,” Moira says.  “But Jean and Scott can tell you the story of how we accidentally blew up the school, got invaded by military choppers, and woke up in a detention facility run by Stryker and his cronies.  The kids broke us out, Jean got your message, and here we are.”

“We also destroyed the Blackbird,” Hank offers.

“And I saved everyone,” Peter says.  “Why does that always get left out?”

“Not everyone,” Scott says.

Charles looks at him sharply.  Erik has lowered their clasped hands but he hasn’t let go, and Charles finds some comfort in squeezing his fingers as he repeats, “Not everyone?”

Peter sounds irritated as he says, “Everyone outside of the explosion.  I can’t actually run into fire, you know.  Just around it.”

“Everyone who was in danger from the blast,” Hank says.  “We couldn't find Alex before the helicopters showed up.”

“What do you mean, everyone who was in danger?” Scott demands.  “You said Alex was the closest to the explosion.  He didn’t get out!”

This is the source of Scott’s pain, and Charles wants to comfort him but he’s too baffled.  Hank is apologetic.  Moira is nervous.  Raven is impatient, but only Jean and Kurt share Scott’s sorrow.  All of them were present, but only half of them are upset.

“He wasn’t out by the time we were taken,” Hank says awkwardly.  “I imagine there was quite a bit of debris between him and us.  There shouldn’t have been any between him and the explosion, though, given he’s the one who caused it.  So anything moving with deadly force should have been traveling away from him.”

“Except for the explosion part.”  Scott’s words are deliberately slow and clear, like he thinks the geniuses surrounding him might have trouble remembering things.  Or thinking at all, really.

Charles looks at Hank, just over Erik’s shoulder, and Hank catches his eye with a frown.  “Alex is fireproof,” Hank says.  “He’s survived a lot worse than burning jet fuel.”

That’s unfortunately true.  How Alex survives his own power is still a mystery to Charles.  He thinks Hank has given up on explaining it.

“Hang on,” Charles says.  “You blew up the school?”

“It was an accident,” Raven says.

“It was Alex,” Hank says at the same time.

“Technically it was your plane,” Moira says.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Hank retorts.  “I didn't think to shield it from friendly fire!”

“Dear god,” Charles says, getting the picture.  “Where was the plane when it exploded?”

“In the hangar,” Hank admits.  “Alex tried to stop--”  He glances at Erik, but Erik doesn't move.  “Them.  From taking you.  He hit the plane; the drive must have ruptured, and the next thing we knew, we were staring at rubble on the lawn.”

“If Peter hadn't come back when he did,” Raven adds, “we'd all be dead.”

“You're welcome,” Peter says.

“Thank you, Peter,” Charles tells him.  “Very much.  Not just for what you did at the school, but for Poland, too.”

Peter shrugs.  “Wish I'd gotten there sooner,” he says, and he means it.

“No one can do everything,” Charles reminds him.  “Everyone can do something.  And you, my friend, do more than most.”

Peter only grumbles, “Well, I'm grounded now.”

Raven has clearly had enough.  “You heal as fast as you run,” she snaps.  “Stop whining; you sound like your father.”

“Raven,” Charles warns.

“She’s not wrong,” Moira says.  “And the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get everyone medical attention.”

Charles opens his mouth, but Moira adds sternly, “Which you all need.”

He decides discretion is the better part of valor, anyway.

“So I come back here,” Kurt is saying to Jean.  “You’ll guide me from here?  How do I know when I'm being guided?”

“I'll tell you,” Jean says.

“Not here,” Erik adds.  “Choose someplace more defensible on your way out.  Jean can direct you from a distance.”

“I’ll be looking for you,” Jean agrees.  “I’ll follow you as far as I can, and I’ll watch for you to come back.”

“Raven,” Charles says quietly.  He knows she can keep Hank and Moira safe.  He knows he and Peter would slow them down abysmally.  He knows she does things more dangerous than this on a regular basis, and she doesn’t need to hear him tell her to be careful.

He still doesn’t like watching her leave.  

“I know,” she says.  She takes his free hand and squeezes it briefly, hesitates, then leans in to kiss his cheek.  “You too.”

Charles can’t help but smile.  The world didn’t end, and he has Raven on one side of him and Erik on the other.  Any day that sees both their hands in his can’t be all bad.


	2. Chapter 2

There are a lot of moments in his life that Alex can't remember.  It isn't the events his memory blanks on: it’s the moments after.  The moment after his powers manifested.  The moment after he jumped out of a plane for the first time.  

The moment after Charles was taken by Apocalypse.

He remembers being afraid.  Being furious, and he remembers Erik.  He remembers his power burning him up from the inside.  Now he's deaf and blind and possibly pinned.  Stuck wherever he is, and there’s nothing between now and then.

His head hurts, though.  His skin feels raw.  It’s a feeling he’s familiar with.

Something nearby exploded with concussive force.  He doesn't know if he was unconscious, but he has to assume he hit his head.  He won't know how bad it is until he can see.  Unless it isn't really dark right now, in which case he's in trouble.

“Hey,” he croaks, forcing his throat to make a sound.  

It does make sound.  He can hear it.  Two for two; that’s good.

“Hey,” he tries again.  The sound is close and muffled.  He’s in a small space.  “Anyone here?”

There’s no answer.  He doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad.  It’s not like he wants anyone else to be stuck with him.  But he wasn’t alone when Apocalypse showed up, and they’re not all as strong as Hank.  Or Mystique.  

They’re probably okay, actually.  What about Moira?  She’s human, and Charles didn’t tell her.  He didn’t warn her.

Alex flexes his fingers.  They don’t feel like they’re in contact with anything he could fry, so he lights them up.  The power is sluggish and cool, like he’s burned through massive energy reserves and this is what’s left.  It’s enough to make the collapsed hallway glow red around him.

He’s still underground.  They were in Cerebro--outside it.  The place has taken massive damage.  If he’s cut off from the others, they may be in more danger than he is.  He needs to get out, start looking.

 _Security for Xavier’s_.

It’s someone else in his head, and Alex closes his eyes against the flood of relief.

 _This is school security._  It’s Wanda.  Wanda is thinking in his head. _Everyone to the boathouse.  Gather at the boathouse.  This is security.  Check in if you can’t get to the boathouse._

Wanda is alive.  Wanda is organizing people.  There’s someone left to come for him, for them.  Apocalypse didn’t manage to destroy everything.

 _Wanda,_ he thinks, as clearly as he can.   _Wanda, I think I’m trapped._

“Alex.”  Just like that, she’s standing next to him, perfectly visible in the pitch darkness.  He hasn’t opened his eyes.  “Where are you?”

“We were outside Cerebro,” he mutters, because talking helps his focus.  “Something blew up.”

“The explosion destroyed the entire school,” Wanda says.  “Peter evacuated everyone he could find.  Are you in danger of losing consciousness?”

He opens his eyes, blinks them hard against the blackness, and tries to move.  It hurts, but it’s not impossible.  He knows what serious blood loss feels like.  He’s okay.

“No,” he says.  “I think I banged my head.  I can’t move much, but I’m okay.”

“All right,” Wanda says.  “I’m sending someone to find you.”

There’s a noticeable pause.  He doesn’t feel her leave, but suddenly she’s back.  He can’t tell if she was there all along or not.  He hopes it’s not his head.  It’s hard to tell with telepaths.

“Alex,” she says.  “Illyana’s with me.  Is there space where you are for a teleporter?”

He tries to imagine the place he’s in right-side-up, and he can’t.  “I don’t know,” he admits.  Illyana’s small, but she needs enough space to draw a circle she can fit inside.  “It’s hard to see.”

“Hi,” Illyana’s voice says a moment later.  She’s much closer.  She’s actually here, Alex realizes, when the magical light of her portal casts fuzzy shadows around him.  “Ow!  Geez, you weren’t kidding.”

“Careful.”  His voice rasps when he tries to raise it.  “There’s not much room.”

“Yeah, I see that.  Hang on.”

The portal winks out, and all he can hear is his breathing.  The silence is stifling in a way it wasn't before.  He tries again to move.  His arms, a little, and he can flex his feet.  It's weird that he's pinned down without any pressure on his chest.

Trauma, he thinks.  The adrenalin might be making him numb.  But when he breathes as deep as he can, he feels his lungs expand.  He feels muscles in his lower back and legs respond when he tries to shift his weight.  There's pain, but it's superficial.  He's pretty sure he's not being crushed.

Illyana’s white light comes back, and her voice asks, “How badly are you hurt?”

He can turn his head, so he squints at her light and wonders if the circle is tilted or if that's just him.  “I dunno,” he says.  “I think I'm okay, but I shouldn't be stuck, right?  Why isn't this shit crushing me?”

“It isn't?”  Illyana sounds perfectly calm, and he knows that voice.  He heard it in the jungle; he used it himself when he didn't want to scare the soldier he was talking to.  “That's good.  It's pretty solid to either side of you, it looks like.  So it's braced, at least.”

“It looks like it's crushing me,” he says flatly.

She doesn't bother lying.  “Yup,” Illyana says.  “Which is good, because if you're not crushed, you're probably pretty safe here for now.  But it's also bad, because I don't see any way to get you out.  Hang on.”

Her portal disappears again, and he lets his head fall back with a sigh.  She must be updating them where he can't hear.  That conversation's probably going real well.

“Alex?”  Illyana sticks her head out of another portal, and this one’s definitely sideways.  “If we clear the grounds above you, can you use your power to blast your way out?”

It's not like it hasn't occurred to him.  “I don't think so,” he mutters.  “I'm mostly burned out.  I can focus it okay, but there won't be much force behind it.”

“Can you vaporize enough to move?” she want to know.

“Maybe,” he says.  “But who knows what I take with me.  If I don't go all the way through, everything above us comes down.”

“Yeah,” Illyana agrees.  “That's why I don't want to open a portal underneath you.  But if I brought someone with me, they might be able to pull you out?”

That sounds like exactly the kind of dangerous suggestion Illyana would make and her brother would ineffectively veto.  “Piotr up there?” Alex asks, trying to ease the angle on his neck.

“He's trying to dig you out from above,” Illyana confirms.  “I told him even he can't singlehandedly shift three stories of concrete and metal.  He disagrees.”

“You're not gonna be able to fit a portal big enough for him down here,” Alex says.  He's shifting anyway, trying to find anything that might seriously mess him up if he's dragged across it at speed.

“Says you,” Illyana retorts.  “Back in a sec.”

She's gone several minutes this time, and he isn't surprised.  It's a stupid plan.  Piotr’s a smart kid.  He’s not gonna agree to yank Alex out from under a ton of debris like a magician’s tablecloth.  And now that it’s quiet again, Alex can feel vibrations from the digging… maybe they really can reach him from above.

He flinches when the portal flashes in his face.  “Hey,” Illyana says, too loud in his ear.  “Piotr’s right behind me.  You still think you can get enough space for him to pull you out?  You might only get one shot.”

“He agreed?” Alex blurts out.  Also, if Piotr’s behind her, who’s digging?

“Yup,” Illyana says cheerfully.  “How are you feeling?”

“Tell me what’s happening,” Alex demands.

“We don’t have as much time as we thought.”  Illyana’s hands are in his hair and he holds very still, letting her feel for whatever injury she’s looking for.  “Military’s been and gone, police are at the gate.  And the ground’s shaking.”

“Wait, what?”  Her fingers are on his neck now, and her hair is in his face as she curls over him, sliding her hands down his shoulders as far as she can reach.  It’s awkward, but it’s all she can do.  He gets that.

“We’re not sure if it’s actual seismic activity or just the collapse of the tunnels,” Illyana says, her voice a little quieter.  “Either way, the rubble isn’t stable.  We need to get you out of here.”

“The others?” Alex asks.  He feels cold, but maybe it’s just because she’s pulling away.

“Everyone who was with you got out,” Illyana says.  “We found a couple more in the upper levels, but Wanda says you’re the last.  Don’t try yet, just tell me--can you do it?”

He pulls, hard and fierce, dragging the chaos to his center.  He can feel his chest heating up, and he closes his eyes.  “Yeah,” he says.  “I can push it up, but I can’t keep it from catching fire.”

“You’re surrounded by metal and rock,” she says.  “There’s nothing to burn.”

He has just enough breath to laugh.  The vibrations are getting stronger, and now there’s no mistaking it for impact.  What’s left of the walls are shaking.  

“Get back,” Alex tells her.  “Tell Piotr to armor up.”

“He’s gonna grab you under your arms,” she says quickly.  “He’ll pull you straight back, head first.  Okay?”

He doesn’t have a choice and he knows it.  “How long can you hold that portal when you’re not in it?”

“Long enough,” she says.  “Are you ready?”

He tenses, fists clenching, and he feels the heat build.  “Good as it gets.”

“I’m switching with Piotr now.”

“Brother,” Piotr’s voice says.  The word is a rumble in his ear as one metal arm covers his head and the other hand grips his shoulder hard.  “On your word.”

Something under him shudders, and metal bites into him as he jerks hard.  “That wasn’t me,” Alex gasps, but the darkness is still shaking and Piotr is going to pull his arm out of its socket.

“Make it you,” Piotr advises.

He lights up, shoving the energy higher, forcing it out of him, hot and angry and slow.  So slow.  It’s pooling against his skin and he can’t get a grip on it, can’t make it move.  It wants to explode, to slice through everything it can reach, and he just wants it to melt.

Something clangs above him and he flinches, scraped raw against everything that’s trying to drag him down.  His foot catches on something and the power bursts furiously, a bubble that’s gone in an instant, buried under the grind and bang of unstable metal and debris.  He curls into the movement and tries to cover his head but there’s nothing underneath him.

He’s falling.

He hears Piotr yelling for Yana.  There’s warm metal against his skin.  He hits the ground hard and can’t breathe, tears in his eyes and bones shaken from the impact.  He doesn’t have time to brace himself for more.

It doesn’t come.  The light is blinding.  The crumbling hallway is gone.  The warm metal pressed against him is Piotr, and the only thing under him is grass.  He can’t breathe because the wind’s been knocked out of him.

“Hey.”  Illyana sounds breathless too.  “You guys all right?  Alex?”

“We’re both intact,” Piotr says.  He backs off carefully, but that’s his arm around Alex’s shoulders as he tries to sit up.  “Thank you for holding the door for us.”

“Yeah,” Alex gasps.  “Thanks.”  He gulps in air but he can’t hold it, can’t keep his lungs open long enough to get out more than a few words at a time.  “Both of you.”

“Do you need help?”  Illyana sounds more worried now than she ever did under the rubble.  “Jubilee’s in charge of first aid, but if the police are here we could get an ambulance.”

“No,” Alex manages.  He looks down at himself, squinting through the brightness and the tears.  He looks terrible, but he’s all there.  He’s barely bleeding, and he can feel all of his limbs.  “I’m fine.”

“Jubilee!” Illyana shouts, and he doesn't even care.  He needs to get up.  He never wants to move again.

“Did you get Alex?”  Jubilee’s voice carries over the sound of children and chatter, and then she’s there with them.  “Hey, wow, you look rough.  How do you feel?”

“Like a building fell on me,” he says, and he has just enough breath to finish the sentence, so it’s getting better.  He tries to get his hands under him, so he’s not leaning entirely on Piotr.  “How’s--”  This time it doesn’t work, and he’s left gasping on the second try.  “How’s everyone?”

“Better than you,” Jubilee says, tossing a blanket at Piotr and kneeling down to peer into his eyes.  “Mostly.  I’m gonna have Doug take a look at you; do you think you can walk, or do you want Piotr to carry you?”

He manages to get a whole breath this time, even as Piotr drapes the blanket over his shoulders.  “Are those my only two choices?”

Jubilee smiles at him, sitting back on her heels and offering him a canteen.  “Well, I’d have Doug come to you, but your clothes are kind of a disaster.  He’s gonna want you to change, and I don’t think you want to do it out here.”

If it means he doesn’t have to move, Alex couldn’t care less.  “What happened to the others?”

Jubilee looks at Illyana, but they don’t try to put him off again.  “Peter got everyone who was downstairs out.  Except for the professor--Wanda says Dr. McCoy saw a bunch of people break into the lower levels and take him?”

A bunch of people.  

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, swallowing hard around the water from the canteen.  He catches the edge of the blanket when it starts to slide.  “Where’s Hank?  Is he talking to the police?”

“Wanda’s talking to them,” Jubilee says.  It’s the same too-steady tone of voice Illyana used underground, the one most students learn from Charles after their third or fourth power disaster.  “Some kind of army birds landed right after the explosion and knocked us all out.  When we woke up, some people were missing and the birds were gone.”

Alex feels the world shift underneath him.  “Army birds?”  

He’s in Saigon, in quarantine.  There are needles and he’s shooting.  Mystique is flagging down a helicopter and shoving him through the door, but they have a target on their backs and they sleep in shifts until they’re back in the US.  He walks off the first base they land at and doesn’t look back.

He hasn’t seen another soldier from his unit since.  Mutant or otherwise.

He tries to hold onto the lawn, the boathouse, the kids who are still here.  “You think the military destroyed the school?”

“No,” Jubilee says quickly.  “No, of course not.  It was probably the people who took the professor.  Right?”

His fingers tighten, and a shiver wracks his body.  He can feel the power clawing at him from the inside, desperately trying to focus… to warm him up if nothing else.  He barely has enough energy to stay upright.

“Right,” he whispers.  But they were leaving.  Apocalypse and the… horsemen.  

Erik.  Warren.  People they know walked right into the school and stole the professor, stole Charles from them, and there was nothing he could do.

“They were leaving,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut.  He’s sure they were leaving.  “Why would they do this?”

Why would the United States armed forces do it?  Abducting soldiers is one thing, but turning on civilians?  Ever since President Johnson pardoned Erik, Charles has gone out of his way to ingratiate himself with the government.  If there’s any place that should have been spared an anti-mutant raid, his school should have been it.

“We’ll ask them later,” Jubilee is saying.  “After we get the professor back.  In the meantime, we need to get you some warm clothes and something to eat.  Actually, does sitting in the sun help?  Or is that just Scott?”

His head jerks up, and he regrets it but he has to know.  “Where’s Scott?”

Jubilee looks like she wishes she hadn’t said anything, and he knows.  He knows before she even says, “He’s one of the ones who’s missing.  With Jean, and Kurt, and…”

“Who else?” Alex grits out.

“Dr. McCoy,” Jubilee says reluctantly.  “And the professor’s sister.  And that woman who was visiting, the one who told the helicopters to stop?”

“Moira,” Alex says.  “Moira MacTaggert.”

“Yeah,” Jubilee agrees.  “And Peter.  But Wanda says he’s okay, so probably they all are, right?  She’d know if something happened to Peter.  And they all disappeared at the same time; they’re probably together.”

Alex shivers again, and Illyana says, “Do you want me to get you a sweatshirt?”

“You should go see Doug,” Jubilee says.  “There’s actual clothes inside the boathouse, and you can get cleaned up.”

Piotr doesn’t push him until Alex holds out his hand.  It won’t stop shaking, which is annoying since he doesn’t feel that cold, but Illyana and Jubilee both grab his arm and pull without another word.  Piotr makes sure he doesn’t fall backward, and when he’s standing up it doesn’t feel as awkward as he expected.

Except for the fact that his clothes are definitely burned through, and the blanket isn’t just about conserving body heat.  He pulls it tighter around him.  It keeps him from putting an arm over anyone’s shoulder, but the three of them stick with him all the way into the boathouse.

He feels worse inside, because Jubilee’s right.  How did she know that about Scott, anyway?  But Doug gets him into a bathroom and out of his clothes before he has a chance to protest, and it’s not like he wants to be up and walking around.  The hot water is a decent substitute for the sun, at least at first, and by the time he’s bandaged up and wrapped in sweats all he really wants to do is lie down.

“Outdoors,” Illyana says firmly.  Piotr’s disappeared, and Jubilee seems to be walking kids in and out of the boathouse at random, but Illyana’s been fetching and carrying for Doug since she came in with Alex.  “We set up a lounger.”

“What,” Alex says, but his teeth are chattering when she hands him a fresh blanket, so it’s probably not very convincing.

“So you can lie in the sun,” Illyana says, like it makes perfect sense.  “Wanda says to tell you the military warned the police off, but all those block parties must have worked because they showed up anyway.  They set up a checkpoint at the end of the road, and they’re doing a mercy run for food and medical supplies.”

He sees Selene comforting a small crying child over by the blackberry bushes, but all he can think is, “What about the others?”

“I think someone’s coming to look for them,” Illyana says, pointing at a chaise lounger set up just off the path.  “Do you want to sit down?”

If it’s that or fall, the answer is yes, but the sun is already clearing some of the frozen agony from the center of his chest.  He manages to unclench his teeth.  “Thanks,” he mutters, bracing himself against the arm and lowering himself mostly in the right direction.

He makes himself say, “You don’t have to stay,” because he’s not useful right now but he’s also not critical.  He shouldn’t be taking up the few resources they have.

“Yeah,” Illyana agrees.  “I know.”  There’s a brief pause, and then she says, “You didn’t get anything to eat.  Do you want anything to eat?”

“Sure,” he says, closing his eyes.  She needs something to do.  He needs something to do too, but he’s a lot less capable than she is right now.  He’s not gonna make her feel worse just because he does.

He doesn’t realize she’s gone until he hears Jubilee’s voice ask, “Alex?”

When he opens his eyes, she says, “We’re calling everyone’s family, to let them know.  Everyone who has one, I mean.  Do you want us to--um, call someone for you?”

They still have a phone?  When did they put a phone in the boathouse?

“Yeah,” he says, because… yeah.  He's gonna hear about this.  He gives her his home number, then both their work numbers just in case.  “Don’t say I was in the building, okay?  Just that I’m fine, and I’ll be home tomorrow, like we planned.”

“Got it,” Jubilee says.  “Oh, and Wanda says to tell you that someone named Sean Cassidy is on his way?  She says you’ll know who it is.”

Sean, he thinks.  They should have called Sean.   Who else?  Jean’s parents, definitely.  Warren’s dad?  But what are they gonna say?  Hey, looks like that mission in Germany went bad.  We should maybe stop sending extraction teams to Europe for a while.

“Yeah,” he says instead.  “Yeah, that’s good.  Did she say if he’s bringing anyone with him?”

“Uh, no,” Jubilee says.  “Should he?”

“He works for the government,” Alex says.  That used to be funnier, but he doesn’t get as much mileage out of it these days.  “He probably won’t come alone.”

“Okay,” Jubilee says.  “I’m gonna go make that call, okay?  Illyana’s here, so just let her know if you need anything.”

“I got you a protein bar,” Illyana adds.  “Because Doug made me.  But I also took an ice cream sandwich when he wasn’t looking, because ugh, really?  Protein bars?”

They’re both hovering over him now, hopeful kids who shouldn’t have to be the ones offering comfort after their home just got blasted to pieces.  Alex doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  He’s supposed to be the one protecting them, not the other way around.

He wonders if Charles ever felt like this, back when they first came to the mansion.

He wonders, but out loud all he says is, “Thanks.”  Jubilee goes back to the boathouse and Illyana hands him the ice cream sandwich.  Alex manages to sit up, fussy pain and all, and he definitely doesn’t complain.

Anyone who’s ever needed protection knows you take it where you can find it.


	3. Chapter 3

Darwin’s been expecting this call for years.  He thought it would come from someone at the Phoenix Foundation, not the X mansion.  Not because anything is more dangerous than a school full of angry mutant kids, but just because neither of them work there anymore.  

“Hi,” the voice on the line says.  The distinctly young-sounding voice.  “I'm calling for Darwin Muñoz?”

That's how he knows it's about Alex.  Most of the people who call him Darwin don't use his legal name, and those that do call him Armando.  She's working with what she was given.

“Speaking,” he says.  He tries not to sound either panicked or frightening with a single word.

“Hi,” the voice says again.  “This is Jubilee, from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?  There's been an accident, and Alex is fine, but he gave us this number to call.”

Alex is fine, Darwin thinks.  Right.  That's why he's not calling himself.

“Why isn’t Alex calling?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Um, he’s outside getting some sun?  The phone cord in the boathouse doesn’t stretch that far, so I said I’d call for him.  I can tell him you want him to call back, but the phone’s pretty busy right now.  We’re trying to keep calls short in case someone needs to reach us.”

He doesn’t know Jubilee.  The fact that someone he doesn’t know is calling, and that they’re trying to keep the phone lines open, probably means they’re in disaster mode.  “What kind of accident?” Darwin asks.

“There was a fire,” Jubilee says.  She sounds more confident now, and he knows a cover story when he hears one.  “We had to evacuate the entire school.  We’re not sure how much damage there is yet, but everyone got out safely.”

“Did Alex start the fire?” Darwin wants to know.

“Uh, no?”  Jubilee doesn’t know enough about Alex’s powers if she can sound that surprised.  “We’re not sure how it started, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.  Not anyone here, anyway.”

“Not anyone there?” Darwin repeats.  Great.  They’re under attack.  Of course they are; Alex can’t go anywhere without getting shot at or driven off a cliff.  He’d probably complain his life was boring if he could.

“We don’t know how it started,” Jubilee says again.  “But Alex is fine.  He says to tell you he’s fine, and he’ll be home tomorrow, like you planned.”

“Tell him to stay where he is,” Darwin tells her.  “I’m coming to him.”

“You really don’t have to--” Jubilee begins.

“I’m getting in the car right now,” Darwin says.  “Thanks for the call, Jubilee.  I look forward to meeting you.”

“Um, sure,” she agrees after a pause.  “You too.”

He grabs his coat and his wallet.  He makes another call before he leaves, but she doesn’t pick up and Darwin isn’t surprised.  He leaves a note instead, and he spends every hour of the drive trying to believe Alex is fine.  

It mostly works.  He has a lot of practice.

Unfortunately, the first thing he sees when he turns onto Graymalkin Lane is a line of black and whites and a couple of cops motioning for him to stop.  He used to know every officer in Salem Center.  Neither of these two are familiar, but when Darwin identifies himself as a teacher they wave him through.

The gate is open when he turns in.  It doesn’t matter when the car stalls out of shock.  The school is _levelled._

The boathouse, he thinks numbly.  Jubilee said she was calling from the boathouse.

Darwin can survive anything, and he doesn’t know how anyone in the house made it out alive.

It doesn’t look any better from another angle, and he gets plenty of them as he follows the sweeping road down to the lake.  He has to pull over for a cop car headed in the other direction, and then an ambulance, but neither of them has its lights on and he has to hope that’s a good sign.  He’s seen enough emergency vehicles in full first responder mode to know that these aren’t.

The closer he gets to the boathouse, the more cars there are.  Parents, he realizes.  He wasn’t the first person to drop everything and hit the road.  He slows to a crawl as he winds through children and adults alike, until finally he has to stop and get out or start using the horn to clear the way.

He’s barely out of the car when he sees her: she’s not in uniform, and her bare arms and face glitter in the sun as she races toward him.  “Darwin!”  

He’s used to seeing her sparkle, but he’d forgotten how much she doesn’t stand out here.  Surrounded by flashes of light and thought bubbles come to life, wings and tails and metal skin shining in the sun, Eva’s purple skin is nothing.  She calls his name again, and it’s only the fact she’s running that makes anyone give her a second glance.

“Hey!”  He catches her in a bruising hug when she crashes into him, squeezes her hard and knows she’ll barely feel it.  “Hey,” he repeats, burying his face in her hair for just a moment.  “What are you doing here?”

“I came with Sean,” she says, holding on just as hard.  “Moira was on her way here, and he thinks Stryker got here right after she did.  But Wanda says the professor was already gone; he was kidnapped by the mutant Moira was after, and also Erik and Warren.  They destroyed the school and now it looks like they’re trying to destroy the whole world.”

Darwin thinks about asking her to start back at the beginning, maybe a little slower, but living with Alex has taught him how to prioritize.  “Are you okay?” he asks, easing his grip on her enough that he can pull back and look at her face.

“Yes,” she says, and she looks at him when she says it, even if it’s only for a second.  “Alex is too; he’s with Sean.  We’re going to find Apocalypse and stop him.”

Of course they are, Darwin thinks.  He’s tried saying no before.  

“Where are they?” he says instead.

They’re with Wanda, as it turns out.  She's deputized the older students and two of the new ones--Jubilee is pointed out to him, but too busy to be introduced--and they're running interference with parents and friends.  She has one of the teachers liaising with police, and Darwin thinks he sees Jean’s sister with them when he glances around.

He's distracted by Sean’s insane plan to fly halfway around the world on the strength of a myth Moira was chasing, not to mention Alex’s enthusiastic agreement with said plan.  He's more distracted by the fact that Alex is wearing a school sweatsuit.  He says he's fine, but he wouldn't have changed unless his own clothes were too burned or too bloodied to keep wearing.

“Okay,” Darwin says, when Sean and Eva just keep talking and Alex is nodding like this is all a great idea.  “Okay,” he adds, more loudly when they take it for agreement and keep going.  “Everyone stop.”

Alex looks at him.  Eva looks at him.  Sean keeps talking, but Alex slaps his shoulder until Sean looks at Darwin too.  “Yeah,” Alex says, while Wanda’s turned away to talk with Doug.

“Let me get this straight,” Darwin says.  “Crazy mutant despot wants to destroy the world.  Not take it over?”

“Well, probably take over whatever’s left,” Sean says.  “But yeah.  Basically.”

“And he’s recruited Erik and the professor,” Darwin says.

“Sounds like it,” Sean agrees.

“He got Erik,” Darwin repeats.  “And Charles.”  He waits to see if they’ll get it without him leading them there, but there’s nothing.  “What’s going to stop him from taking over all of us?”

“We don’t know that he took over the professor,” Alex says.  “It looked like he was controlling Charles through Cerebro.  Without that, he might have been able to fight back.  Especially if Erik helps.”

“Erik’s been back in a town Germany lost to Poland for weeks now,” Darwin says, because he reads Hank’s letters to Alex.  “Maybe months.  Trying to free enslaved mutant children from people who sent him and his entire family to death camps.  You think he’s going to argue with someone who wants to destroy the world?”

“I think when Charles tells him to stop fighting, he does,” Alex says.  “And Charles resisted Apocalypse long enough to make me to destroy Cerebro.  This guy can’t be that strong.”

“He won’t be able to take me over, anyway,” Eva reminds them.  “I can fly the plane, and if there are any problems I’ll turn around.  His reach must have limits or he wouldn’t have needed to come here in the first place.”

“We couldn’t keep him out,” Wanda says.  Doug is gone, heading back toward the boathouse, and she adds, “We couldn’t stop him.  If he could transport himself here, there’s nowhere he won’t be able to follow you.”

_Hear me, inhabitants of this world._

Darwin looks to Alex instinctively.  Alex is looking back, but they both turn to Eva, who nods.   _This is a message--_

“Is everyone hearing this?” Wanda asks.  All activity is coming to a stop; he can see adults and children looking around like they might be able to identify the source of the voice.

The voice of Charles Xavier.

It’s gone quiet, but no one is moving.  He puts his hand on Alex’s arm and Alex’s eyes are back on him.  “Is he still talking?” Darwin asks.  His mutation has gotten more sensitive to telepathy over the years, but it’s still unpredictable.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex says.  “You’ve lost your way, but I’ve returned.  Uh, he says the reckoning is here, buildings will be destroyed, nothing we can do.”

“Wanda,” Eva says.  “Can you tell where he is?”

Alex steps closer, lowering his voice as Wanda shakes her head no.  “It’s not just him,” she’s saying.  “Hang on.”

“This message is for the strongest among you,” Alex murmurs, narrating the voice in his head for Darwin.  “Those of us with the greatest power… protect those without.  That’s my message to the world.”

“That’s the professor,” Sean says.

“Yeah, of course it’s the professor,” Alex says.  “He’s stopped talking,” he adds, glancing back at Darwin.  He’s holding onto Darwin’s arm now too, as close as they can come to holding hands in public without actually doing it.

“No, I mean, that was him talking at the end,” Sean says.  “It was someone else at first.”

“Sounded like him,” Alex says.

“You said Apocalypse controlled him through Cerebro,” Eva says.  “What if he’s using Charles’ power without Cerebro?”

“Then we’re toast,” Sean says.

“Did you get any sense of direction?” Eva asks Wanda.  “Close by, far away?”

“Far away,” Wanda says, but her eyes are closed and she looks like she’s mindwalking.  “Something was amplifying his power.  Someone.  He wasn’t alone.  But I don’t think he was being controlled either.”

“So that’s good,” Sean says.  “He can help us.”

“He still broadcast that message,” Alex says.  “That’s bad.”

“Wanda?”  It’s the girl in the yellow jacket, and yeah, her voice is definitely the one that called about Alex.  “There’s a guy named Warren Worthington on the phone for you.  He wants an update on his son, and do we want to use the camp across the lake?  Because he says we can have it for a couple weeks if it would help.”

Wanda opens her eyes.  “Jubilee,” she says.  “This is Darwin.  He used to teach here, with Alex.  Darwin, this is Jubilee.  She’s a student.”

“Hi,” Jubilee says, waving at him.  Tiny bursts of light flicker from her fingertips, and she beams at him through the glow.  “Mostly harmless.  Nice to meet you.”

Despite everything, he smiles at her introduction.  “Same here.  On both counts.”

“Nice,” she repeats.  “I see why you and Alex get along.  What should I tell this Worthington guy?”

“Tell him Alex saw Warren this morning and he seemed okay,” Wanda says.  “Yes, we’d like to use the summer camp.  Ask him how long, exactly, and if we’re allowed to modify it for accessibility reasons.”

“Got it,” Jubilee says.  “Also, Piotr wants to talk to you when you have a second.”

She’s gone again, just like that: a flash of yellow and a trail of sparkles.  Darwin can’t tell if it’s intentional or not.  Only now does he realize he’s still holding on to Alex, but it’s too late to let go so he shifts closer and bumps their shoulders together instead.  Alex doesn’t pull away.

“I can’t go with you,” Wanda is saying.  “You should go after Apocalypse, the professor, Moira.  Whoever you think can make this stop.  But I have to stay here.  With the school.”

Darwin doesn’t look at Alex.  “You want some help?” he asks.  “You know I’m better on defense than offense.”

“I have help,” she tells him.  “What I don’t have is my brother.  You should be where you’re needed most.”

“Come on, man,” Alex says.  “He can’t get inside your head.  We need that.”

“Oh, sorry,” Darwin says, pretending to be surprised.  “This is the job you want me on?”

“I want you on all the jobs,” Alex says with a grin.  “Just afraid you’ll show me up, that’s all.”

“We’re actually not authorized for passengers,” Sean says.  “I mean, not that it’s gonna stop us, but.  Just so you know.”

“So if we go down, we’re in the country illegally,” Alex says.  “Like that’s new for me.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Eva says.

“Says the woman with three different passports,” Sean replies.  “And I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure your real one doesn’t even have your legal name on it.”

“Shh,” Eva says, waving her hand at him irritably.  “I’m trying to impress my family!”

“And he’s trying to impress you,” Darwin adds, to cover the warm glow that even the destruction of the school can’t freeze.  He raised her as his daughter, and she accepted Alex from the very beginning.  He’ll never stop being grateful to Tempest, and to Charles, but most of all to Eva and Alex for the family he never thought he’d have.

Alex protests, Eva laughs, and Wanda ducks out to talk to Piotr.  He and Illyana have volunteered to join the rescue mission, but they went through Wanda to do it and they’re two of her best.  Sean tells her to keep them.  If Apocalypse can go anywhere in the world, they’re going to have to defend a lot of people simultaneously.

Alex adds, “Tell them thank you.”

By the time they’re actually in the air, someone else is broadcasting on their frequency and Eva puts Hank’s voice on everyone’s headset.  It’s recorded, repeating in a loop they can’t source, but it’s clearly meant for them.  Hank and the others are already free of whatever military holding facility they were in.  They’re aboard stolen a plane, headed for the last known location of Moira’s secret society.  

Hank only gives their code names, but hearing “Cyclops” makes Alex laugh in relief.  Scott’s okay.  They’re all okay.  Jean got a message from the professor telling her to come to Cairo, so that’s where they’re going.  

Darwin had forgotten what it’s like when everyone around him is as competent as Alex.

The overseas flight isn’t so bad: Sean and Eva catch them up on Moira’s Apocalypse research, and Alex shares what he knows about the school’s undercover missions.  When they exhaust speculation on Erik and Warren they turn to Charles and Jean, then Wanda and Peter.  Sean gives Alex a tour of the cockpit controls, and Eva tells Darwin how she runs interference for Sean while Moira’s undercover herself.

It’s probably the longest uninterrupted time he’s had with Eva in weeks.  Maybe months.  And when Alex finally throws himself back into the seat beside Darwin and takes off his headset, staring out the window while his thumb taps absently against Darwin’s wrist, he thinks it’s one of the better rescue missions he’s been on.

They’re still ninety minutes out when Sean picks up an SOS on the same frequency as Hank’s recorded message.  

Sixty minutes out, they’re close enough for the instrumentation to be affected by whatever Erik’s doing to the planet’s magnetic field.  There’s some sort of radiation surge, and Eva says the psychic energy coming from Cairo is off the charts.  She can’t tell if it’s good or bad, and they can’t raise anyone at the airport, so they’re flying blind.

Without air traffic control, Sean doesn’t dare do much in the way of sightseeing, but what they do see is bad.  It’s like the school all over again, destruction on a citywide scale.  Buildings are demolished, crumbling, or just half-gone, like they were made of sand and someone blew parts of them away.

“They’ll have seen us coming,” Eva says.  Her voice is quiet, but they can all hear her over the static of the headsets.

They’re watching the streets widen with their approach, the magnitude of the disaster growing the lower they go.  Sean keeps a running commentary on their activity while Alex helps him scan for obstacles.  Darwin asks, “Are we the only thing in the air?”

“Can’t tell,” Sean replies.

“Only thing I can see,” Alex offers.  “For what it’s worth.”

Darwin frowns, because Eva’s right.  The only plane for miles around is going to stand out like a fireball at night.  “Is there any way to know where the others went down?”

“Yeah,” Sean says.  “Kind of.  Near the pyramid, anyway.  Best I can do.”

“We could get there, but we couldn’t land,” Alex says.  “Not without VTOL.  Maybe not even then.  There’s debris everywhere.”

“Do you have a clear runway?” Eva asks.

“I think so,” Sean says.  “I hope so.  The roads are no good, but at least we’ll be less of a target on the ground.”

They’re close enough to see windows, now, where they still exist.  Flashing by like cars on a train as the ground races up to meet them.  The plane shudders when the flaps deploy, but Sean is narrating for their nonexistent audience and Alex doesn’t say anything.  The wheels hit the ground next, and the roar of pavement and air is reassuringly normal.

“What’s that?” Alex asks, loud over the rush and pressure of landing.

“You want me to look or you want me to land?” Sean counters, but Darwin’s looking.  He’s seeing the spiky black vehicles that look like they fell out of the sky into the shelter of the abandoned airport.

“Jean,” Eva says suddenly.

“You hear her?” Sean asks, still focused on the controls but better at talking through it than he used to be.  Better at a lot of things than he used to be.

“Yes,” Eva says.  Her hands go to her headset, but she doesn’t adjust it.  “She’s--hold on, she’s--”

She pushes the headset off, clutching her head, and Darwin can see her squeezing her eyes shut.  He reaches out instinctively, even when there’s nothing he can do.  She’s in pain; he wants to help.

_Really loud,_ he thinks, out of nowhere.  Jean’s really loud.

Then, _Sorry._  It’s definitely Jean’s voice this time, and it might even be Jean behind it.   _Sorry, Eva.  Hey, everyone.  Is this any better?_

“I can hear you,” Darwin says aloud.  Eva sits up straighter, and Alex nods when Darwin looks at him.

“I can hear you too,” Jean says.  She’s sitting across from him, a telepathic projection that looks solid and real in the seat beside Eva.  “We destroyed Apocalypse, but we had to crash the plane and now we’re stranded.”

“Hi Jean,” Sean says over his shoulder.  “Tell Moira her taxi’s here.”

“Moira went with the others into the city to find a phone and shelter,” Jean says.  She knows how to report, because she adds, “Scott and I are with Peter and Erik and the professor.  Peter’s hurt, but not badly.  Kurt’s coming back for us as soon as he knows where they’re going.”

“Erik’s with you?” Alex asks.

Jean looks at him and smiles strangely.  “Hi, Alex,” she says.  “It’s good to see you.”

Alex trades a look with Darwin before saying, “Yeah, you too.”

Darwin shrugs.  Alex doesn’t look any different to him: his hair’s longer, maybe, but not worth a double take.  On the other hand, Darwin doesn’t have much experience talking to telepathic projections.  Can she even see them?

“Yes, Erik’s here,” Jean says as though nothing happened.  “He remembers now.  Storm helped us too.  She’s taking Moira and Hank and the professor’s sister to a place where we can hide.”

“Hide?” Sean asks.  “Why are we hiding?”

“Erik and Storm did a lot of damage,” Jean says.  Given what they can see out the windows, that’s probably an understatement.  “The professor’s worried someone will shoot first and ask questions later.  Mystique thinks they might not listen to us at all.”

“She’s probably right,” Alex puts in.  “Erik’s on every government radar and watchlist there is.  Even if Poland doesn’t want him, they’re not gonna let him back into the US without a fight.”

“Did Poland charge him before he--”  Sean breaks off, shaking his head.  “No, you know what?  I don’t want to know.  The professor’s not going to leave him behind, so it doesn’t matter.”

“What about Storm?” Alex wants to know.  “She the one with the lightning?”

“Yes,” Jean says.  “She knows the streets here, but the professor doesn’t think the government will recognize her.  None of the rest of us have ID, but it shouldn’t be a problem as long as we stick together.”

As long as they stay with the telepaths, she means.  Darwin wonders what happens if the other group gets stopped.  Can Moira get someone to vouch for them?  Or does Mystique guess who the authorities are most likely to listen to and improvise?

“Where are you?” Eva asks.  “Sean and I can cover nationals, at least.”

“Technically not true,” Sean says.  The plane has finally rolled to a stop, but he’s still shutting things down and he hasn’t turned around yet.  “You and I are okay, but I’m not authorized for a team bigger than two.”

“Yeah, but that’s bringing people into the country,” Eva says.  “We can evacuate any US citizen in times of civil unrest or personal danger.”

Sean points at her over his shoulder.  “That’s good,” he says.  “I like it.”

Eva beams, and Darwin can’t help but smile.

“There’s ten of us,” Jean says.  “Will we all fit?”

“Sure,” Sean says, spinning around at last.  He looks around the plane, then adds, “It’ll be tight.  How much of this can you see?”

“Only what you tell me,” Jean says.  “Or what Eva thinks, and she thinks it seats ten.  Total.”

“Plus two in cargo,” Sean says.  “And no offense, Jean, but you and Eva aren’t going to put us over maximum load.  It won’t be comfortable, but we’ve got a long runway.  We’ll be all right.”

Darwin’s headset crackles violently, and he yanks it off without thinking.

Sean’s already back on the instruments, but he doesn’t broadcast their call sign.  It’s deliberate radio silence after the continuous chatter of their approach, and it makes the rest of them quiet too until he says, “Military aircraft.  Not Egyptian; probably not authorized.”

There’s another static burst, audible from the headset resting on Darwin’s shoulders, and this time he can make out faint voices.  Sean’s pushed his mic out of the way when he says, “Just a flyby.  If there’s anything left of Egyptian air defense, they’ll to have to enforce a no-fly zone to keep out rubberneckers.”

“Which means us too,” Eva says.

“Which means us,” Sean agrees.  “Yeah.  We should get out of here as soon as we can.”

“Where are you?” Eva asks Jean.  “We probably can’t get closer to you, but you said Peter’s hurt?  Do you need help?”

“We’re all mobile,” Jean says.  “With Erik’s help.  I’m not sure where we are, but I can track our relative positions and Erik can fly.  I think we can get to you faster than you can get to us.”

“What about the others?”  Darwin asks.  “Any way to get word to them?”

“We might have to wait for Kurt,” Jean says.  “Unless the professor can find them.  Hold on.”

For a moment she doesn’t say anything, but then she’s completely gone.  Her projection vanishes like she was never there.  Which she wasn’t, really, but the illusion is convincing and dramatic.  Darwin glances at Eva.

He’s not the only one, and she’s frowning.  “Jean got distracted,” she says.  “I can’t reach out, not the way she does.  We’ll have to wait for her to come back.”

“I might be able to get Moira’s attention,” Sean says.  “We have emergency homing beacons; I could set mine off.  It would give her a direction on us, at least.”

“And let her know you’re here,” Alex says.  “Will she be able to tell it’s you?”

“Yeah,” Sean says.  “They all have individual transponder codes.”

“It’s a good idea,” Alex says.

Sean turns around, looking first at Eva, then at Darwin.  Then he holds up a little black chip and squeezes it.  A tiny red light starts to flash from one of the corners, and Sean shrugs.  “It’s something, anyway.”

“How’s our first aid kit?” Eva asks, pushing off toward the back of the plane before anyone can answer.  “Can we actually treat anything worse than cuts and bruises?”

Jean appears behind her and Eva keeps going, but she tosses a, “Hi Jean,” over her shoulder.  Between him and Alex, Darwin honestly doesn’t know where she gets her equanimity.

“Hi,” Jean says.  “So the professor says Moira just got a message from Sean, but I’m supposed to ask you if anyone’s ever heard of the Shi’ar?”

“The what?” Sean asks.

“The who?” Alex adds.

“Apparently they’re extraterrestrials,” Jean says.  “Alien… bird people.  They were passing by when Apocalypse tried to destroy the world, and they say this looked like a good place to hide.”

“Wait,” Darwin says.  “What?”

“Are you joking?” Eva asks.

“Well, I’m not,” Jean tells them.  “But they might be.  It turns out it’s hard to read aliens; their minds do a funny--”  She gestures at her head.  “Thing.  It’s hard to explain.”

“But they’re definitely aliens,” Darwin says.

“Yeah,” Jean says.  “That part I’m pretty sure of.  They say you passed their ships on the way in.”

“I knew it!” Alex says.

“You did not,” Sean retorts.  “No one knows that.  No one looks at weird sculptures at the airport and thinks, hey, maybe that’s an alien spaceship!”

“You’d be surprised,” Alex says with a grin.  “I know a lot of people who think that.”

“It’s contagious,” Darwin mutters.

Alex just smirks at him.  “Oh, you love aliens.”

He loves how excited Alex gets about the possibility of aliens, which at the end of the day is probably the same thing.  “Sure,” Darwin says.  “I love aliens.  Are they evil?” he asks Jean.

“They seem nice,” she says.  “But so does Erik, so no one’s letting their guard down.”

Great, Darwin thinks.  They’re grounded in Egypt with evil aliens that remind Jean of Erik.  He’s come up with a lot of contingency plans to deal with “calls about Alex” over the years, depending on who’s hurt and who’s angry, but this situation doesn't fit any of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Most of Cairo is a blur, and Erik would prefer to keep it that way.  He remembers Charles talking to him, and Mystique, and he remembers the whole world bending when he pushed.  He remembers nothing of words exchanged until the world stopped moving and he and Charles stood together inside the school.

He should remember that, he knows.  That’s not an illusion.  He and Charles have stood there many times before, but they aren’t there now.  They’ve come five thousand miles from the place where Erik tried to tear the world apart, and there’s nothing left: no classrooms, no labs, no dining room or hallways or student lounge.

No school.  

Erik doesn’t know what they’ve come back to.  He also doesn’t know how they’ve come to be here.  He has no particular use for aliens from outer space, no matter how much faster their ships are than American planes.  He would have argued against traveling with them, if survival had seemed important or even desirable.

Right now, it's enough that Charles wanted to do it, and he finds it’s worth something to him to get Charles what he wants.  So when Charles asks him to check on the children, please, he looks to Storm and Jean.  Peter and Kurt and Scott were traveling some other way, but maybe that’s not what Charles meant because Jean says, “I can show you where they are.”

Erik considers this.  She and Storm are huddled around him, hair like fire and ice in the predawn light.  The runway is the brightest thing around, and their alien transport avoided it entirely.  He’s aware that Charles is trying to get them out of sight: him and Storm, certainly, but Jean even more so.

_Please,_ Charles says again.   _I need everyone to be refugee students and teachers, just for now.  Until we know what we’re dealing with._

It isn’t the first time Charles has refused to let Erik stand at his side.  But it’s been years, and if he cared more Erik supposes he would be angry.  Hiding just means they die in silence instead of going down in flames.

He isn’t angry.  He’s mostly hollow, now.  Apathy isn’t conducive to rage.

“Very well,” he says.  “We’ll follow you.”

Storm doesn’t object, and Jean leads them confidently across what’s left of the grounds and into the still shadowed woods.  Erik knows these paths.  He knows every trail to and from the lake; he's circled it and run them all at various times of day and night.

This time is different.  This time he sees police behind every tree.  He hears arrows in every snap of sound.  He knows as well as anyone that they’re ghosts, the scars of a moment he’s not even sure was real.  It doesn’t stop him from wanting to tear the forest down around him.

Jean doesn’t say anything, but he’s grown used to a telepath’s attention.  He recognizes her presence as much as Charles’ absence.  Her steady concern is enough to distract him each time he turns too sharply or pauses without warning.

Storm isn't silent.  “Why are you jumpy?” she asks bluntly.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.  He doesn’t want to talk about anything, but Storm had his back for days and she has a right to ask.  “I remember something terrible happening in a place like this,” Erik says.

It’s enough.  They don’t speak again until they’re in sight of the first buildings: sleeping cabins for the campers that fill the lake with noise every summer.  Erik runs wide around the entire facility when there are children on the premises.

There are children here now, but they're a far cry from the boisterous crowd that swims and plays when camp is in session.  These are the survivors, those left behind after the families flooded in and drove away: the refugees, Charles called them.  They made it out of the school, but there was no one to come for them afterward.

They're not sleeping.  The shadows are fading in the eerie glow that precedes sunrise, when the light seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, but the air is subdued instead of peaceful.  It's clear Jean feels it most oppressively, dropping back to walk closer to them, and Storm wordlessly makes room.

They pass one of Wanda’s sentries before they reach the main gathering area, but it's the black blur racing toward them that makes Erik tense.  Jean actually jumps while Storm’s fists crackle with electricity.  Erik thinks _Charles can't sense animals_ and he puts out a hand to stop them.  “Wait!”

It's a dog.  It's a dog he's seen before, and he wondered how many of them would follow her onto the plane.  He doesn't dare say her name until he does.  “Nina?”

She's running toward them too, appearing out of nowhere, and why isn't she wearing any metal?  He isn’t thinking, he doesn’t care, he crouches down and opens his arms.  She might be a vision, a hallucination, some kind of intangible and highly dangerous diversion right up until she hits his chest and his arms close around her.

“Daddy,” she mumbles.  “They said you were coming.  Mommy said we should sleep but we couldn’t.  Daddy, I lost your necklace, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to.  I’m sorry.”

The black dog is whimpering at his feet as he strokes Nina’s hair and tries to shush her.  “It’s all right,” he murmurs, the foreign words easy on his tongue even with the cover gone.  Language is a habit, and he spoke this one for a long time.  “You don’t have to sleep.  I have your necklace; it’s all right.”

He sees Milena, then, and Krysia.  They’re huddled on the porch, and he doesn’t know if they’ve been there all along or if Nina left the others inside.  If she knew he was coming she might have come out to wait for him, but no.  That’s Adelaide in the corner, and Gerard by the steps.  They’re visible in the stillness like shadows he overlooked.  Motionless.

The porch was empty when Nina first appeared.

“Can I have it?” Nina’s asking.  “I won’t lose it again, I promise.  Where is it?”

He wears the locket under his armor, still bloody and unfit for a child’s hand.  “It’s broken,” he murmurs, lifting her with him as he stands.  “You can have it back when it’s fixed.  Where’s Leon?”

“He’s in the woods,” she mumbles.  “With Celestyn.”  The black dog has risen again, staring into the trees, and Erik assumes it’s staring directly at the missing children.

He looks at Milena instead.  “Are you well?” he asks.  “Did they help you?  What do you need?”

She puts her hand over her mouth and holds the other one out to him, stepping down off the porch and into his embrace without a word.  He thinks there are tears in her eyes, but he doesn’t dare look as he pulls them both tightly against him.  They’re the first people he’s wanted to touch since Charles, and he holds on as hard as he can without crushing them.

A little boy and a taller girl melt out of the woods to his right.  The black dog greets them happily, and he hears Jean say, “Hello.”

“Hello,” the other girl replies.  Erik can barely hear her accent, but he supposes to Jean it must be quite strong.  “Who are you?  Are you and Henryk friends?”

“Yes,” Erik says, before Jean can ask, _who?_  It took him long enough to convince them to call an adult by his given name; he’s not going to confuse them more with people who don’t recognize it.  “This is Jean and Storm.  They’re like us.”

“I’m Jean,” Jean offers.  “I move things around without touching them.”   _And I can talk inside your head,_ she says.   _You can speak any language you want; I’ll understand you._

“I’m Celestyn,” the other girl says.  She doesn’t seem troubled by the telepath, but then, she knows Leon.  “I hit things very hard.”

“Storm,” Storm says, when they look at her.  “I bring the wind and the rain.”

“Do you live here?” Nina asks suddenly.  Her English is passable, and she uses it without prompting.  “Like Daddy?  Is this your home?”

“No,” Storm replies, but Jean looks at him and Erik doesn’t know where to start.  He has to; he knows that.  Emma always meant to stay in Europe, and Lorna must have been pressed into service for the school as soon as the plane touched down.  There’s no one else.

“This isn’t home,” he says at last.  “But it’s a safe place where you can stay for now.”

“What about you?”  Nina’s eyes are wide and worried, but he doesn’t want to let go of either of them long enough to brush her hair back and reassure her.  “Will you stay with us?  Where are you going?  You said we’d be together in your home.”

“Shh,” Milena whispers, running her fingers through Nina’s hair.  Her hand is warm when it brushes against Erik’s arm.  “Your father has many important things to do.”

“You need help,” Erik tells her quietly.  “You were never meant to have all six of them alone.”

“We all do what we must,” Milena murmurs.  “You got us out of Poland.  Safe passage and a place to start over.  You’ve more than fulfilled your promise to me.”

“But not to them,” Erik insists.  “Let me stay.  Until there’s some sort of order, at least.  Regular meals.  Classes.  Other adults to share the burden.”

“Oh, Max.”  She looks up from Nina’s face at last, holding his gaze without fear.  “You know I'd never turn you away.  Stay as long as you can.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” he says, and it makes something whisper in his mind: he’s said that before.  Not to her.  But she just smiles, patting Nina’s hair again and squeezing the arm around him before stepping back.

“Storm, you said?”  Milena looks at the white-haired teen by his side, and then the phoenix on the other.  “And Jean?  I’m Milena Gurzsky, and pleased to meet you.”

“The same,” Jean says quickly.  “I’m sorry there was no school here to greet you.  This is a camp one of the parents offered us, so that students and teachers who don’t have anywhere else to go could stay together.”

“The entire world suffered great destruction this week,” Storm adds.  “We must help rebuild it.”

“I liked flying on a plane,” Nina says unexpectedly.  “We flew across the ocean.”

“Yes, we did,” Milena agrees.  “And we’re glad to be somewhere safe, with people who are kind instead of afraid.”

“Animals aren’t afraid of me,” Nina says, frowning.  “I don’t know why people are.”

“People are afraid of me too,” Jean offers.  “Sometimes things we don’t understand seem frightening at first.  But everyone here is different, so we have a lot of practice not being afraid.”

“Why are they afraid of you?” Nina wants to know.  “You don’t do anything scary.”

“I destroyed Apocalypse,” Jean says.

Nina looks skeptical.  “What’s that?”

Jean looks at him again, and this, at least, is familiar.  “Apocalypse was an old man,” Erik says.  “One who wanted to destroy anyone who wasn't like him.”

“He was very powerful,” Storm adds, oblivious to the way Milena’s hand tightens in his.  “Jean had to be strong to defeat him.”

“And I had to have help,” Jean adds.  “None of us could do it alone.”

Ultimately, Erik isn't convinced that's true.  He remembers a firebird that scorched everything in her path, and he remembers Charles’ anxious pleas that he and Storm take Jean with them when they go to ground.  It isn't hard to imagine what Charles is afraid of.

Charles has been afraid of what Erik will do for as long as they’ve known each other.  Jean is only the latest he’s felt it necessary to hide.  To indoctrinate, Erik thinks in his less charitable moments.

_This message is for the strongest among you,_ Charles said.   _Those of you with the greatest power._

He always did collect the most powerful, Erik thinks.

“We all choose where to give our loyalty,” Storm is saying.  “We are responsible for the actions of our allies, just as they must be responsible for us.”

“Lorna’s coming,” Nina says suddenly.  The black dog is gone.  None of the children move, but Milena looks up and Storm turns to follow her gaze.

“Hello,” Lorna calls, pitched to carry without startling.  “It’s just me.  I brought food and sweatshirts, and Doug says he has extra blankets and clothes if we need more.”

“Thank you,” Milena says, pulling away from Erik.  “Let me help.  Adelaide, Leon, come get the sweatshirts Lorna brought you.”

“Oh.”  Lorna stops a few steps away, and Erik assumes she’s just seen him.  He wasn’t hiding, but she wasn’t expecting him and Leon’s standing right there.  Like most of them, the boy has little if any conscious control of his power.  People around him see what they expect to see.

Erik waits, and after a moment Lorna nods.  “Erik,” she says.  She and Anya never picked up the twins’ habit of calling him “Dad,” but at least they grew out of “Mr. Lehnsherr.”  

“Welcome back,” she adds, tugging one sweatshirt loose from the strap of her backpack and then another.  “Adelaide, Doug says it might help to sit with other people first.  Get warmed up before you put it on.”

“I’ll sit with you,” Krysia offers.  The two girls on the porch are already close together now that Milena’s left them, but they shift into each other while Leon brings both sweatshirts up the steps.

Cold-blooded, Erik thinks.  Like her snakes.

There’s metal in the empty chairs on the other side of the porch, and he slides it free with a thought.  He smoothes it into a thin, flat sheet, warms it to the touch, and floats it gently in Adelaide’s direction.  “It’s warm,” he tells her.  “I can cover the bench with it if you stand.”

Krysia pulls her up without a word, and he slides the metal over the place where she was sitting and up onto the back so she can lean against it.  It requires only a small amount of concentration to keep it warm, and if he forgets it will only cool into the shape he’s given it.  When he tells them they can sit on it again, it’s Krysia who moves first but Adelaide’s reaction is the most dramatic.

As soon as her skin touches the metal she draws her feet up and presses them to the bench, curling into the back and resting her cheek against its surface.  Erik lets it curve around her a little and increases the temperature slightly.  The girl with the snake tattoos smiles for the first time.

“We have bagels and peanut butter,” Lorna is saying, “plus cheese and an apple for everyone if you want it.  No one’s found the camp dishes yet, so we only have one knife, but there’s paper cups and running water inside.  No food until you wash your hands, please.”

She’s using the other bench to set out food on napkins and the bags it was carried in.  Erik can’t tell if the children were all outside because they were waiting for her, or if none of them want to go in the building.  Since outside seems safer anyway, he doesn’t ask.

They’re willing to go in to wash up, at least.  Jean and Storm take turns going with them, and Milena waits for them to start coming back before she follows their example.  Erik takes up a position at the top of the steps, watching, until Lorna says, “You too.”

He looks at her in surprise, and she makes an eating motion followed by a handwashing gesture.  He thinks about telling her he isn’t hungry, but that would be a lie.  “You can’t possibly have enough food for all of us,” he says.

“This isn’t a mercy run,” Lorna tells him.  “This is breakfast.  Doug’s got a school credit card and Jubilee’s telling everyone to take seconds, so I brought two bagels for everyone and a jar of peanut butter, plus extra cheese.  I’ll go back for more if we run out.”

She’s slicing bagels while she talks, and Gerard and Celestyn are already arguing over how to best remove the seal from the peanut butter.  Nina comes out with Jean, and Erik thinks that if anyone can protect them, she can.  He still waits for Milena to come back, because leaving Nina without one of them feels impossible.

Milena catches his eye and nods when she returns with Adelaide and Krysia.  Storm is still inside.  He pushes the wooden door open and finds a large room with bunk beds and trunks, and a smaller room with sinks and toilets.  Storm and Leon are hanging out one of the windows while she makes things fly past on the wind.

Once upon a time, there would have been something he could say.  He would have known how to amuse and challenge them with a word or a trick of his own.  Now he just walks past them into the bathroom.  When he comes out they’ve gone, the window wide open in their wake.

It’s lighter outside than in, true morning now, no matter how early.  He can sense movement at some of the nearby cabins, and there’s a steady stream of people from the camp out to the road.  Fewer are moving along the trails Jean led them on: the school, or what’s left of it, has clearly shifted operations to this side of the lake.

“Here you go, Daddy,” Nina says, patting his leg to get his attention.  “I made you a peanut butter sandwich.”

Lorna looks over at him when Nina says “Daddy,” but it’s the armor that’s awkward when Erik tries to squeeze in beside her near the bench.  The other children make room, shifting over and around each other like he’s just another obstacle, but he feels Milena push his cape back and Jean leans over the bench to knock on his chestplate, bold as you please.

“Can you take this off?” Jean asks.  “Or is it part of… whatever Apocalypse did?”

Jean’s wearing some kind of jumpsuit, soft fabric that cushioned the battle gear she wore in Egypt.  She shed it in favor of comfort and mobility before boarding an alien spaceship: the opposite reaction to his, but they’d both come out of the trip alive.  Now she looks strange, surrounded by children in dirty clothes and school sweatshirts, but nowhere near as imposing or out of place as him and Storm.

“It’s part of what Apocalypse did,” Storm says before he can think of an answer.  “The armor is not like yours.  There’s no way to take pieces of it off; we wear all of it or none of it.”

“I think it looks pretty,” Nina says.

“Thank you,” Storm replies.  “But we should probably dispose of it.  It’s symbolic of a greater evil in the world.”

“What evil?” Nina asks.  “Apocalypse?”

“No,” Erik says.  Charles has carefully skirted the word “evil” for years, and it surprises him how aggravating it is to hear it again being passed from child to child.  “It’s not evil to defend your own.”

“But it’s not right to destroy others to do it,” Jean says quickly.

Erik looks at her over the half of a peanut butter bagel he’s sharing with Nina.  “You destroyed Apocalypse,” he says.

“He was trying to kill us,” Jean retorts.

“And when he saw humans doing the same to mutants,” Erik replies, “he reacted the same way.  We all do what we have to in order to survive.”

“Even humans,” Milena says, her tone deliberately calm.  “Self-defense is instinct.  Defense of others is compassion.  Would anyone like their apple cut into pieces?”

Erik makes her a second knife and offers it handle-first without a word.  She smiles at him even as Nina and Krysia scramble to give her their apples.  The edge is sharper than the butter knife the kids have been using, and it cuts neat quarters with minimal effort.

“Okay,” Lorna says.  “That would have been useful before now.”

“Then I guess you should practice more,” Erik says.

She makes a face at him, but he’s distracted by a brush against his mind.  Charles’ wordless request for reassurance is strange after so many years--weeks, it’s only been weeks--and he fumbles to hide his surprise.   _Fine,_ he thinks, too loudly.   _Safe.  Eating breakfast._

Jean doesn’t look at him, and he’s as aware of that as he is of Charles’ increased concern.  There’s a blur of food, warmth, family: Charles asking if they have everything they need.   _Yes,_ Erik thinks.   _We’re fine._

He used to be better at the flow of impressions and emotional shorthand that Charles uses with the minds he’s closest to.  He doesn’t--he can’t remember when it was familiar, only that it was.  Now it isn’t.  He can feel Charles’ thoughts coalescing into words to accommodate him.

_The others are inbound,_ Charles tells him.  At least Erik understands him to mean the other plane, Sean’s plane, without him having to spell it out.   _Our aliens are apparently fugitives.  Their government has made contact with ours; it’s all over the news._

Jean does look up at that, catching his eye in a way that makes it obvious she’s hearing every word.  Erik doesn’t know what to think or how he’s meant to respond.  His mind fixes on the word “fugitives” as he watches the children pass the peanut butter and share apple quarters.

_They’ve traced the strongest psychic signals on the planet to Jean and I,_ Charles continues.  Erik can’t control what Charles is getting from him, but he can feel Charles’ concern at his reaction warring with his desire for transparency.  Since when do the two of them share everything?

Since always, he thinks.  Stop it.  That’s the cover lingering, not reality.

Only he can’t tell if he’s the one thinking it or if Charles is, and the uncertainty is awkward and troubling.  He doesn’t know who he is.  He barely knows where he is.  The why and how have always been out of reach, so at least he doesn’t miss them.

_They’re asking for us,_ Charles says.   _I don’t think they know who we’re harboring.  I’d like to keep it that way._

“This one’s for you,” Nina is telling him, setting her last apple quarter in front of him.

“Thank you,” Erik says automatically.  He remembers her being his daughter, but that can’t be right.  She’s the daughter of a dear friend, a mutant child so endangered by her own country that flight was the safest option: for her, for all of them.  He knows that.

_Are you quite sure you’re all right?_ Charles asks.   _I’m sorry to keep asking; it’s just that you seem a bit muddled._

_I remember contradictory things,_ Erik thinks.  Lorna has inexpertly sliced her own apple with the dull knife and is passing pieces to anyone who hasn’t got one yet.   _Are they after you, then?  The aliens?  Do we have to repel them too?_  

Perhaps Jean could destroy them, he thinks, and he wishes he could believe they didn’t both hear those words.

_I certainly hope not,_ Charles replies.   _I’m not clear on what they want, but Jean is a student teacher in my employ and under my protection.  She won’t be meeting with any government representatives unless it’s on her own terms._

“You’re lucky,” Lorna is saying.  “No classes today.  But I’m expecting jet lag to kick in any minute, so whenever you feel like you could sleep, you should probably try.”

Erik is acutely aware of what Charles left out.   _What about you?_

_Well, I have a long history of antagonizing world governments,_ Charles replies.   _I’ve been thinking I should branch out._

“I want to meet the others,” Krysia protests.  “The ones like us!”

_Not alone,_ Erik thinks.   _Tell me you’re not going to meet a hostile government in foreign territory by yourself._

“You will,” Lorna promises.  “Everyone here is like us.”

_You’re welcome to come with me,_ Charles thinks.

The words ease an angry ache he hadn’t realized he was carrying, and Erik bites into his apple quarter without another thought.   _Very well,_ he tells Charles. _I accept._


	5. Chapter 5

“Knock knock.”

Hank doesn’t take his eyes off of the television screen.  “Come on up,” he says.  She stood at the bottom of the stairs for several seconds before calling out, so he assumes her pretense at politeness is only an effort to disguise the obvious uncertainty.  It’s the first time she’s stuck around for the morning after.

“Hey,” Mystique says, climbing up the stairs to the loft over the camp’s dining hall.  They’re using the downstairs space as their staging and gathering area, so he’s taken over the upstairs to run communications and multimedia equipment.  “Since when do you sleep?”

“I don’t,” he says.  He left the bunk beds in the corner for whichever of the kids has the least controllable and most destructive power at any given time.  If he used one himself while he was waiting to see what CBNC would show of Charles’ and Erik’s participation in the Shi’ar talks, that’s just being efficient.  “Since when do you knock?”

“I didn’t,” she retorts.  “Can I sit down?”

He waves a hand in the general direction of “behind him” and assumes she'll take it as an invitation.  She does.

“Is that the Shi’ar talks?”  Mystique’s as strong as he is, but she isn’t as quiet.  He heard her move the chair, and he isn’t surprised when her voice is right in his ear as she looks over his shoulder.  “I heard Charles spurned the alien emperor’s sister.”

There’s only one other working television set on the lake, so he knows where she must have been if she saw that.  Unless word about Charles and Erik got around that quickly, which he should know better than to discount.  He should probably ask her what the parents are saying.

What comes out instead is, “Are you avoiding me?”

She doesn’t hesitate.  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He keeps his eyes on the television.  “Were you avoiding me?”

He feels like he can see her roll her eyes, but given the curve and depth of the reflection in the screen, that’s physically impossible.  “Of course I was,” she says.  “You want me to do it some more?”

Hank frowns at the reporter who’s trying to talk over the fifth replay of Charles awkwardly explaining that he’s married and monogamous.  At least serially monogamous, a distinction that gets lost in the initial confusion and then buried under the increasing uproar.  Erik is, for once, exactly as calm as the professor, and Hank wonders if Charles is threatening him mentally: stay silent or else.

He wonders if Charles would have said anything at all if Erik wasn’t there.

“What are the parents saying?” Hank asks belatedly.  He hears the subtle movement as Mystique doesn’t get up and leave.  Interesting.  So she actually would have gone if he’d said yes, he wanted her to go?  

Too bad the reverse has never been successful.

“They think it’s a joke.”  Mystique delivers it like the intel it is, and he can’t help thinking they still work well together.  “That Charles did it as a way of politely declining an alien engagement without causing a diplomatic incident.  Which is hilarious, since the only thing my brother likes as much as Erik is a good diplomatic incident.”

“So they’re following the tone of the news,” Hank says.

He can feel the shift in the air as Mystique shrugs.  “So far.”

“Hey!” Alex’s voice calls up the stairs.  “Beast!  You there?”

“Yeah!”  Hank doesn’t turn around, but he’s aware that he relaxes and he knows she can tell.  It doesn’t matter.  Everyone knows they were together.  Mystique cares less than Darwin does.

Which isn’t saying much, since Darwin cares a lot, but Alex says he should ignore it so he does.

CBNC has switched back to coverage of the aliens themselves now: the people, their ships, wild speculation on their politics and culture.  The Shi’ar invited it by bringing their civil war to Earth and squaring off with the planet’s most powerful telepath in the middle.  But if they really think Charles is going to make it better instead of worse, then Mystique’s right: they don’t know him at all.

“Oh, hey Raven,” Alex is saying.  “Is it safe for you to leave the Sisterhood alone this long?”

Mystique just sounds bored when she replies, “Buzz off, Havok.”

Hank’s seen all of these broadcasts multiple times, so he makes the effort to look over his shoulder and catch Darwin’s eye.  He nods, because what else can he do?  It’s not about them.

Darwin says, “Hey man.”

“Hi,” Hank mutters.  They were literally the only friends he had when he worked for Division X.  It’s funny how being in a room with them can make him feel like a teenager again.

“Really?” Mystique says, glancing sideways at him.  “You’re still not talking to each other?”

“Hey, Hank,” Darwin says easily.  “Check my math: you’ve said one word to me, she’s said zero.  One hundred percent in your favor?”

It’s a gross statistical oversimplification, and it’s based on conversational and observed semantics.  But it helps Hank find his footing and he’s grateful.  “I can confirm that, yeah,” he says.

“They’re still freaked that you’re helping Eva,” Alex says to her.  It's not quite an apology, or a peace offering, but it’s close.

“I’d be helping you if I could figure out which international conspiracy you’re unraveling on any given day,” Mystique retorts.  “It’s unofficial anyway.  No one’s going to connect it to us.”

“I could,” Hank says.

“You can do anything,” Mystique replies.  “That’s not much of a warning.”

He didn't actually mean it as a warning, but maybe he should have.  Another set of footsteps on the stairs makes him give up.  They should just move the television downstairs.  That way they could all be equally misinformed, and faster too.

“Hey Sean,” Alex says.  “Is it weird that Mystique’s Sisterhood is helping Eva?”

“Uh,” Sean says, pausing at the top of the stairs before joining them with a shrug.  “I officially know nothing about that.  Is it weird that the whole school knows about Erik and the professor when there’s only one television?”

“Two,” Hank says.  “And there are plenty of radios.”

“It’s weird that they didn’t know before,” Mystique says.  “Seriously, this is news?”

“We don’t exactly put it in the brochure,” Hank says.  “Erik teaches.  He and the professor are friends.  That’s the official story.”

“It was the official story,” Darwin says.

“Well, if they lasted this long.”  Mystique doesn’t bother making room for the others, so they’re clustered awkwardly around the chairs that face the television.  “They’ll probably let the press think whatever it wants to.”

“I don’t think so,” Hank says.  “They’re committed to the truth, this time.  They’re not going to cover it up now.”

“You base that on my brother’s long history of being honest about who he is?” Mystique counters.

“It was always about how he could do the most good,” Hank tells her.  “And you’re not any bluer than I am, so I don’t think we should talk.”

“You never did,” Mystique says.

“Hey.”  Alex doesn’t snap the way he used to, but his tone is a warning nonetheless.  “We all do what we have to so we can live the way we want.  The professor never made us choose.  And that’s why people still come here.”

“Well,” Sean says thoughtfully.  “That and the food.”

“And the cars,” Darwin adds.

“The lake,” Hank offers.

“Hey, you didn’t say the labs,” Alex teases him.  “You’re getting out more.  Way to go.”

“I could have said the attractive teachers,” Hank says.  He feels more daring than usual with Mystique sitting next to him, but he’s still careful not to look at Darwin.

Alex’s grin widens.  “Ditto.”

“Yeah, okay,” Darwin says.  “Break it up.”

“Is he wearing a ring?” Sean asks suddenly.

“Yeah,” Hank says, following his gaze to the television screen.  “He wears it under his--”

It isn’t under his shirt now.  The professor is wearing the ring Erik made for him on his left hand, and there’s not a single camera that misses it when he reaches up to run his fingers through hair that isn’t there.  Hank hopes Charles knows that every relationship he’s ever had is about to become very, very public.

“Hey, Hank,” Mystique says into the sudden silence.  “You know how you said I should come back and stay for a while?”

Hank wonders if Charles is doing it on purpose: not just to distract the aliens, but to distract humanity.  If he makes this into something other than mutants versus humans--and it won’t take much with the aliens doing most of the work for him--maybe he can blur the boundaries enough to make people start thinking again, instead of just reacting.

“Sure,” Hank says belatedly, realizing she let the question hang.  He could definitely use her support for the new plane.  Charles will let him rebuild it, but if Mystique’s around it’ll be bigger and better equipped.  “No time like the present.”

Mystique sounds as resigned as he’s ever heard her when she says, “Let’s hope not.”


End file.
